


Unexpected.

by TheBitterWriterOfBritannia



Category: Impractical Jokers, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alcohol, Body Image, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Internal Conflict, M/M, Marijuana, Past Relationship(s), Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 12:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11967171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBitterWriterOfBritannia/pseuds/TheBitterWriterOfBritannia
Summary: Brian and Sal had a pretty sturdy relationship when they were in school, wild and loving through and through, until it all fell apart unexpectedly. Now in their 40s, they find themselves longing for something that feels like a past life, and they don't know what to do with the all too familiar, strange feelings resurfacing. It's like when they were kids, the trials and tribulations of each others likes, and the pushing of boundaries they haven't tested in over two decades.It was unexpected, but sometimes that's when the best stories are made. Can Sal get past his paranoia? Can Brian prove he means what he says (even if it's a little mumbled and badly worded)?





	1. Teenagers and Pizza.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: So obviously everything is fiction- none of what is written should reflect the real relationships between the people used or my own feelings on their relationships. I just like to write!
> 
> Hope you like this series!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past is the past; the good always love young.

**_*1993*_ **

 

_"I mean-- If you're down, whatever, but I uh-- you know, I think-"_

_"Dude, are you asking me out?"_

_"If that's okay with you, then yes. Otherwise no, I_ totally _wasn't."_

_"Bri, I've been waiting for you to ask. God, you're a fucking dope, just come out with it!"_

_"Okay...Sal, will you...you know, go out with me?"_

_"Of course, you fucking idiot."_

 

-

 

Brian stood with his foot against the school wall, hands deep in his leather jacket staring into the abyss. He was waiting for his three friends to finish up in their after school class. Sal, Joe and James stayed behind to get in the extra hours for math, as their parents had 'advised' ( _forced_ ) to assure they would get the grades they hoped for. It seemed pointless in all honesty - Joe was an over achiever destined to pass with flying colours, Sal had an knack for bullshitting magnificently, and it wasn’t unexpected that James would also pass spectacularly, considering he feared failure. If anything, the only one who could have used the extra hours was Brian, but he decided against sitting in a classroom any longer than was mandatory, listening to the mindless dribble his teacher had to say. Despite his mother's lashing tongue, and his father trying to strike fear into him if he failed, he would rather wing it on the day and hope for the best. What 17 year old wants _extra_ school?

Instead, he spent his lonely hour pondering the school, talking to whoever was around to fill the time, and running to the local shop before time was up. He bought a pack of cigarettes, grateful the young girl behind the counter fancied him and never asked for ID. He entertained her wishful fantasy for a few minutes, telling her she looked good that day, and strolling off when she'd "forgotten" to take his cash. Exploiting the convenience of a 19 year old was not bellow him, especially if it assured he'd get the cigarettes. They were never for himself though, he didn’t like the things, but he liked how they accompanied his image with his fathers leather jacket. He stashed the pack in his front pocket for everyone to see as they walked past, and kept them safe and sound for the actual person who smoked-

“Hay bud.” Called out Joe, walking up to Brian, startling him. He turned up his collar, greeting his friend, as James and Sal came up behind Joe. “You pretending to be cool again?”

“There aint no pretending here, I am what I am.”

“You’re about as cool as Mr Colombo with his gelled hair- looks like he swam to school, poor bastard.”

Brian grunted, flipping the smug boy off. “Fuck you, Joey. If it weren’t for me, Melissa McCarthic wouldn’t even look your way, you dope!”

“I don’t even like Melissa. She looks like Murr’s sister, and I aint into that, feels too insestuous.”

“Well no one wants Murr’s genes near ‘em anyway, do they?” Sal mocked, shoving James as he replaced him beside Brian.

James slapped Sal, stone cold expression as the others cackled. Joe let out a relieved sigh, leading the way. “Anyway, Melissa only likes you because she figures she can bum some cigs of you, but they’re not even yours.”

“Yeah, speaking of which.” Sal took out his lighter, pulling the packet from Brian’s pocket and sticking one of the cigarettes between his lips. “Been fucking  _dying_  for one of these all day!” He say said through a mumble, trying to keep it in his mouth. He covers the end of the fag as he lights it up, inhales deeply and exhales the extra smoke caught in his lungs, releasing it into the air. “Thanks babe.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Brian put his arm around Sal’s waist, kissing his shoulder as they walked together. Sal grumbled, taking Brian’s hand from around his waist instead linking their fingers, swinging their hands between them. Brian scoffed, squeezing playfully to gain Sal’s eyes as he blew out smoke. “Problem?”

“You know I hate you touching my waist.”

“Is this because your lady curves are kicking in?” Brian teased, biting his lip as Sal glared at him. “Come on, bud, I’m playing with you. I don’t mind you with some love handles, more of you to love...and hold on to-”

“Alright love birds, we don’t need to hear the explicit details of your sex life.” James laughed, crinkling his nose in disgust before going back to talking with Joe. Sal rolled his eyes, tapping the excess ash off his cigarette as he turned to face his boyfriend.

“I aint a fan of the extra junk in the trunk though.”

“I am.”

“Course you are, sex pest.” Sal snickered, nudging Brian to stumble slightly. “It’s my fault for slacking in gym I guess.”

“Hay, Sally. Listen to me.” Brian stopped them in their tracks, holding Sal’s chin to keep their eyes connected. His smile lifted, warm and inviting into a world of admiration, and the twinkle in his eyes blinded anything around them but the affection of the other. “You’re a fuckin’ stunner, ya hear? Whether you’re 50 pounds or 500 pounds! I’ll always wanna kiss that mug of yours.” He leaned in, kissing Sal fondly on the lips, hands holding his cheeks securely. Sal’s body fell weak against his, the crack of his smile breaking their kiss. Brian pulled away, staring deeply into his boyfriends eyes. “Got it?”

Sal bit his lip, nodding like an idiot before taking the last drag of his cigarette and blowing it softly into Brian’s face. Anyone else may have scowled, but he knew how much he loved it, the toxic smell whisking him away like delusional hallucinations. Brian inhaled, grabbing Sal’s hand and dragging him to catch up with the other two who hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped. 

-

The four boys sat in their local pizza shop located between Joe’s home and their high school. James had a slice stuffed in his face, struggling to find air between bites, Brian was chowing down all the same along with Joe over a meat feast pizza, and Sal sat salivating over their food, willing himself not to eat any of it. He had his pathetic salad (that he worried was still packed with 1000 odd calories since it came from the same sleazy greasy kitchen their food did), and a water. That was enough. It was normal for them all to grab dinner at  _Louis’ Pizzeria_  after school, but Sal was starting to hate the thick, oily food the more he noticed his hips curve against his shirts. 

“Boys,” Joe began speaking, covering his mouth as not to spit out the food he hadn’t swallowed. “Y’all coming mine tonight?”

“Sure thing.” James assured, grabbing another slice before he’d barely finished the last. Joe smirked, turning to face Brian and Sal. 

“You two aint sneaking off to the bathroom this time, ya hear? I aint having my mother collapse of shock cause she caught yous blowing each other next to the shitter!”

James burst out laughing, spitting food over the table. Sal turned bright red, eyes falling wide as he avoided Joe’s smug expression. Brian grinned deviously. 

“This time we’ll just fuck in your bed instead. How about that, Joey?”

“Oh God, Bri, shut up!” Sal fell into the palms of his hands with embarrassment as the other three laughed. Brian slapped Sal on the back, nudging him playfully as he shook with laughter, still avoiding eye contact.

 

Joe and James had taken the two’s relationship impressively well, which they hadn’t expected. They’d worried once they began dating it would ruin their tight friendship as a foursome, but the other two didn’t seem to bat an eyelash at the news: “ _As long as you’re happy, who gives two shits!_ ” They remained as close as they were before, if not closer. Brian had tried to plan out a perfect night to ask Sal out, planning to throw rocks at his window and drag him outside. He hadn’t planned for the rain that night, but he came out victorious nevertheless, throwing his leather jacket over Sal’s head to protect him from getting wet. 

They didn’t have to reevaluate their friendship, there was no overly dramatic proving of masculinity, all the worrying Sal and Brian had about coming out and their buddies reactions had been pent up nonsense in their heads. Joe put it best: “ _I’m insulted you’d think we’re a couple of homophobes! If y’all want to fuck, then go forward and fuck! As long as we can all still hang and play video games without watching you two swap saliva, who am I to interject on your life?_ ”

 

Joe punched Sal on the forearm, making him shot up as he glared him, rubbing the newly forming bruise. “We’re messing with ya, man. C’mon, have a slice.” Joe slid over the pizza box for Sal, tempting him. He looked at the delicious gooey food, the cheese velvety with ham and sausage, and the smell could pull him off his feet how immense it was, thick and  _flirty_ , teasing his weak will to give into his gut. 

Sal bit his lip, pushing the box back and holding back the choked sobs that wanted to escape as he said goodbye to the delicious treat. “It’s cool, dude.” He took his fork and dug into his salad, wrinkling his nose at the weak coloured green leaf hanging from his utensil. The other three watched him curiously, looking disgusted as if it were a slug he was about to eat, and even more grossed out when Sal actually ate the salad. It was awkwardly crunchy, echoing in the space of Sal’s cheeks loudly, and he tried to fake enjoyment as he swallowed the dry salad. 

“Mmm, yepp. That was delicious.”

James, Joe and Brian shared a odd look amongst each other before bursting out laughing. Sal sighed in defeat, pushing the bowl to his side and leaning against his hand. 

“Dude, Just have a slice of this.” Brian picked up a slice of the pizza and offered it to Sal. Looking at the slice, the cheese slowly melting off the slice, Sal shook his head.

“Nah, I’m alright.”

Brian chuckled. “You’re gonna waste away if you eat that rabbit food. Come on!”

“Honestly, Bri, I aint even that hungry.” Sal kept his eyes down, drawing lines on the table with his finger, avoiding the obvious concern on his friend’s faces. Joe and James sat awkwardly as Brian analysed Sal, trying to unlock what was going on in his head. He looked at the two of them and swished his head to the side to indicate for them to leave. 

Joe grabbed James by the scruff of his coat, lifting him to his feet. “Let’s go play Asteroids, Murr. Give these two a little space.” Joe winked at Brian knowingly, before scattering off with James and tackling the arcade machine before the two girls eyeing it up could. Brian shook his head at his friends. He turned to direct his attention back on Sal, putting an arm around his shoulders and nudging him softly with his head.

“Dickweed, talk to me.”

Sal looked up at him, aggravated. “Using insults isn’t going to make me talk to you. Butter me up a bit, then see if anything falls out.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Of course it fucking isn’t!” Sal chuckled, sitting up and pushing his boyfriend off him, cheeks wide as the good mood suddenly surged him. He found it hard to stay in a bad mood when he was with Brian, and even harder when he was  _looking_  at him. His dark hair pushed back and styled, as opposed to Sal’s unkept floppy mess, his dark eyes piercing holes in his heart in the most deliriously compelling way, and the cheeky smile that peered further past his cheeks and flew into the horizon on a wishful thought. Sal adored Brian more than he’d ever admit; to his friends, to Brian, and to himself.

Brian took Sal’s hand, kissing the back. “What’s the deal then, babe? Cause I’ve noticed the changes in your diet lately. You’re skipping out on breakfast too, aint ‘cha?”

“The fuck you know that?”

“Your sister told me. She says you’ve been weird lately.”

Sal rolled his eyes, rubbing his thumb over Brian’s knuckles. “Whatever, it’s not a big deal. I’m just trying to drop a few pounds, that’s all.” He purses his lips, clicking his tongue. “You don’t wanna be dating a guy that can’t even keep in shape, do ya? I don’t want to embarrass you when I’m out on the football field, out of breath as everyone charges past me.” He chuckled, eyes wasted on the toxic worries of his darker thoughts. 

Brian scowled. He could see the lies burning Sal, the false laugh poisoned by his concerns. He squeezed his hold of Sal’s hand, lifting the other to run through his boyfriend’s luscious hair, falling past his fingers, flopping back into place over his face. “I said to you earlier, I don’t give a shit what size you are, Sally. You being you is all that matters to me. You smiling, your neurotic self trying to organise me, just everything that you are is what really matters. Fall out of shape and I’ll still be by your side, you fucking moron!” He unhooked their fingers and wrapped his arms around Sal’s waist, squeezing lightly and snuggling his face into Sal’s back. Despite the groans of disapproval, Brian stayed stuck to him, kissing along his spine and snickering. “Don’t lose weight for me, okay? I’d rather eat junk food with you getting fat together than you starve yourself for some bullshit.”

“It aint bullshit to me.” Sal interjected, holding Brian’s hands over his stomach, cringing slightly at the contact of his minuscule pooched stomach. “I like being fit.”

“Sure. But don’t put some crock of shit on me, ya hear? I aint ever gonna complain about you having a fat ass so you don’t have anything to worry about with me!” He rested his chin on Sal’s shoulder, kissing him sloppily on the cheek, smirking. “I care about you a lot, bud. Okay? If you want to lose weight, I’ll help ya, but you don’t need to.”

Sal sighed, turning to look at Brian with soft eyes. “You want to start going running with me?”

Brian would rather sit on his ass playing video games than exercise, but the sorrowful look on his partners face was too much to turn down. He squeezed Sal again, kissing his shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, sure.” He unhooked himself from around Sal and pushed the pizza toward him again. “As long as you eat some real shit, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Sal raised his brow, grinning devilishly as he picked up a slice. “Anything I want? Well I do know another way to burn calories.” He took a large bite of the pizza, almost spilling cheese down his chin but keeping his seductive expression glued to Brian, jerking his brows repeatedly. Brian smirked mischievously, looking around to see if anyone was watching them before putting his hand on Sal’s leg and rubbing the inside of his thigh, biting down on his bottom lip. 

“Now  _that_  I aint got a problem with.” He squeezed his leg, having to pull himself back from lunging at Sal right there and then. They leaned in close, Sal swallowing the greasy pizza and in the same breath locking lips with Brian, just enough to make him desperate from the contact. Brian put both his hands on Sal’s legs, running them along his strong thighs and practically purring into his boyfriend’s mouth when Sal’s arms linked around his neck. The taste of cheese was prominent, and oddly satisfying.

Then there was a cough, and they both jumped away from the other and stared behind them, seeing Joe and James shaking their heads; one looking displeased and the other grinning knowingly. 

“Did you forget this is a respectable family establishment, boys?” Joe tutted, fanning his hands at their faces to make them separate as he sat in between them on the bench, with James joining on the other side. “I mean it, if I catch you two canoodling when we get to mine, I’ll sock you both!”

“Fuck yourself, Gatto.” Brian laughed, throwing his arm around Joe’s shoulders and jerking him aggressively; playfully. “Once you get laid, you’ll understand. Even Murr over here gets it, don’t cha, fuck nuts?”

“I get liking sex, but not in a pizzeria when I’m with my friends.”

“Not even if Danica Mckellar were across from you?”

James straightened up, tensing. “That’s different.”

“Nah man,  _this_  is different.” Brian points at Sal, deviously delighted the other man was even there, a reason to win in an argument against James. “Me and Sally, that’s real. I love him so fucking mu-” He stopped, eyes falling as wide as his mouth.

The other three stared at him cluelessly, before they all smiled, Sal beaming like he may burst open with stars.

“ _Love_?” The other three said in unison, different tones: elated, shocked, teasingly. Brian looked between all three of them, stuttering before falling off into laughter, shrugging.

“Not quite how I planned saying it, but I guess the cat’s out the bag now.” He took another slice of pizza, grinning.


	2. Feelings and alcohol are a destined disaster.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes out in the end. Sal and Brian learn the drunk way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I started writing this months back before Q cut his hair. I mean, not a big deal, just an F.Y.I)

_***2017*** _

 

Brian slams his beer down on the table, eyelids falling sporadically as he slurs a story from the groups past best his intoxicated self can remember. Beside him is Sal who’s at the stage of drunk where he can’t stop smiling from ear to ear, his pearly teeth proudly shinning brighter than the dim light over their booth. Murr and Joe are sat opposite - Murr’s pupils squeezed as tiny as they can possibly shrink while Joe is completely sober and enjoying the antics and usual personas of his friend’s drunken states. 

There wasn’t a special occasion. It was just another Friday night and the group decided last minute to get together and have a laugh, outside of cameras and makeup and the dozens of crew they were tangled up in on a daily bases. Not that they begrudged working with each other on the show or anything else to do with  _Impractical Jokers_ , it was just a breeze to be able to relax around one another naturally, without the pressure to be funny and bounce of each other constantly for an audiences amusement. Being able to take a deep breath and reminisce in their own privacy was one of the things they loved the most after two decades of friendship. 

“Okay, okay, okay...” James holds his hands up, as they pulse in and out of the air to calm the others- who  _weren’t_  actually speaking. “But, if you  _had_  to, who would you fuck?”

“Murr, they aint gonna answer!” Brian says, taking his beer and holding it to his lips. “Joe’s a married man and Sal’s a fucking pussy.”

“ _Hay_!” Sal shoves him playfully, causing Brian to almost spill his drink; neither acknowledge it. “I’m just not interested in deciding which member of our crew I’d rather fuck. It feels...wrong! Too close for comfort.”

“Yeah, the fact I’m married isn’t anything to do with it, bud. I just don’t have an answer.” Joe smiled, sat smug and content as the real damnation was aimed at Sal. 

“And anyway, Q, as if  _Casey_  is your  _real_  answer.” Sal laughed, leaning back in his chair, triumphantly. Brian glared at him, despite his grin, and turned back to James, holding back the evil laughter building in his gut.

“Alright. I got one then. You two,” he pointed between Joe and Murr, “Which of Sal’s sisters would you-”

“Finish that question and I’ll rip your nuts off.” Sal threatened, his face completely deadpan. “ _Answer_  it, and the same will happen.” He said to James and Joe, unable to hold back the glee lifting his lips. It really was  _nice_ , that everything felt as comfortable and natural as it did in High School, and through all the heart ache and the ups and downs, all four of them had grown into themselves and their friendships. The bar they were at wasn’t too rowdy, but it was musky and dark enough for them to feel settled. A lot of places these days were infested with 20 something singles, and sometimes it was uncomfortable to try blend when they stuck out like a sore thumb. This place, _The Dead Fox,_  was almost perfect.

They laugh for what feels like centuries, get up to pee, order more drinks, laugh some more- rinse repeat. They’re having a wonderful time hanging out as friends, not ‘Jokers’. Late into the evening, a young blonde woman walks up to their table and places an order down on the table; three out of four unbeknownst to the drinks now before them. She smiles, strutting away with a very deliberate swing in her hips.

“ _Jesus_ , man.” Joe raises a brow at the waitress then down at the round of beers, the fruity  _mock_ -tail, and the tequila shots, ordered by Brian obviously as his lips curl cunningly. “You planning to get inebriated beyond your wildest dreams, aye?” 

“May as well, right?” Brian says matter of factually, winking at Joe before he downs the shot and shivers as the sour sting radiates through his throat, that the others could almost see the distasteful yellow glow through his neck. “Workin’ our asses off so much, may as well have some down time- and do it the _right_ way!”

“Sure. But,” Joe’s eyes flicker down at the drinks before he suspiciously eyes up Brian, “Why are there  _four_  shots?”

The shaggier man shrugs his shoulders with as much innocence as the cheshire cat, looking side to side as he slowly slides the shot toward Joe. Murr and Sal chuckling at the mans antics, and it just gets heavier when Joe rolls his eyes and slides it back.

“Nice try, bud.”

Brian sighs, with a the devils smirk still lingering. “Worth a shot. Hay, Sally,” he turns to the other man, lifting two tequila’s up to his face and hoping his over excited expression is enough temptation for his friend to take up his offer, “You want Joe’s cast aside drink, plus your original?” He jolts his brows. “I know you can do it.”

Sal purses his lips, tempted by the offer but knowing two shots will give him a horrendous hangover the next day. He’s about to decline when Murr barks back “How come  _Sal_  gets two, huh? Why you showing favouritism?” before pointing a crooked finger between the two and snickering. Brian looks over his shoulder at Sal, throwing his arm around him and pulling him against himself with a harsh force. Sal huffs out a laugh as Brian keeps him protectively sheltered under his arm.

“Why the hell not, Ferret? My money, my choice.”

“You got your favourite buttered up good aye?” Sal rolls his eyes at James’ statement. 

“Sure do, buddy. He gets the shot ‘cause he’s sexier than you. Now, keep showing me cheek and I’ll have to give Sally here a  _third_  shot!”

The youngest boy looks at Brian over his shoulder, amused by the statement. “Weird way to pick favourites.” Sal slurs, trying to pretend a proud blush hasn’t very lightly lifted the colour of his cheeks. 

“I think it’s the  _perfect_  way to pick favourites.” Brian turns to face Sal, lifting his chin with his finger and smiling shrewd. “Your tits are  _way_  better than Murray’s!” And with that he laughs, the other two joining in less so but still bemused at Sal’s expense. 

Sal takes a second, then his body almost unwillingly tenses and he scowls at the other man, all happy markings straightened out. “Is that a fat joke?” He shuffles out of Q’s hold and takes his shot, throwing it down his throat and grimacing in the process. Beside him, Brian still tittering with laughter, pushing back his hair and not having a clue Sal is riddled with unease. Drinking had a tendency to make him more blunt, yet more oblivious. 

“Only a teeny tiny  _itty_  bit- c'mon man, flaunt what you got! You've got better tits than all the four us, let alone Murr! Hell, you've probably got better tits than most of our past girlfriends!" They all laugh, boisterously. Sal sends daggers flying at his friends, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting with a new found sullen pout. Brian returns to a normal conversation with the other two, disregarding anything Sal may be feeling now; which, to his displeasure, is embarrassment and annoyance. 

 

It was hard to believe Brian and Sal remained friends into their 40s after how everything fell apart between them in their teens. The intensity that use to lay between them like a second lover, as they left kisses over the taunt skin of one anothers neck, and the unspoken confessions in their moans stuck to each others hearts even into adulthood. Neither forgot the butterflies they once felt flutter over the other, but at the same time they never had the instinct to start it all up again. They were content as friends, genuinely. Sal had had numerous girlfriends he cared for over the years, Brian almost got married, and neither had any resentment for the other moving on without looking back. It was almost as easy as breathing; the memories were apart of them, but it wasn't a defining matter in their personalities and they had better things to think about.

No almost moments to rekindle what once was, no outlandish outbursts of love hidden away after all these years- they were genuinely best friends, with a foggy, heated past, and nothing was about to jeopardise their friendship now.  _Nothing_.

James seemed to have forgotten all that happened in high school - or at least he’d repressed it so much it may as well have happened to two  _different_  people who  _weren’t_  his best friends - but every once in a blue moon, Joe wondered when the sparks would catch fire again. He remembers the heartbreak they both felt after the fall out, and he remembers how unexpectedly but perfectly they fit together, and everything else that made it hard for him to believe it was gone and forgotten about. People don't recover with ease from the scalding flames of an unforgiving fire, but Sal and Brian had managed to bare and grin it spectacularly well. However, at the best moments of their friendship - getting the TV show, doing their live show in Vegas, the first time the guys held his baby girl - he wondered if any of it really ever happened? He can’t have conjured up the idea of his best friends together out of no where, but he also can’t quite believe that they pretend better than anyone else nothing happened. 

Sal had cried himself a river so thick he almost drowned. Brian tried to bury himself in sex, booze and marijuana. 

They never spoke about it again after coming back together when college ended, and when the initial awkward month passed, they were as good as gold again. 20 years later, here they were best friends and at peace as a pair of singles, who once weren’t, together. 

 

Sal takes the spare shot before James can get his grubby hands on it, and throws it down, protesting. He grimaces, but cocks his head and sits with his arms folded, irritated. Brian doesn’t take notice, just keeps laughing with James, but Joe side eyes Sal every so often as they speak. Joe’s the first to rip someone apart, but he’s also the first to be concerned. He reaches across the table, tapping in front of Sal and gaining his attention. 

“Gotta take a leak. C’mon.”

“Why’d ya need me? I aint holding your dick as you piss.”

“Not what I was hoping, despite how ‘ _sexy_ ’ you are, Vulcano.” Joe says, standing and patting Sal on the shoulder. “Get up.”

Sal doesn’t question him, he walks with Joe to the bathroom and avoids leaning on the walls or even remotely touching anything as much as possible. The bathroom was grotesque, like expected of a men’s restroom, and if it was anyone else they’d have no problem grin and baring the room. Sal however, has a hard time using his friend’s bathrooms let alone a public restroom that has a very distinctive smell, smudges covering the entirety of the mirror, and ageing urine beneath the urinals that made his gag reflex thicken in his throat. He tried to push it to the back of his head, grateful he wasn’t enduring the scene while sober.

Joe went over to the urinal and unzipped his trousers. “You alright then, bud?” he asked. Sal looks around the room, avoiding the line of sight that was Joe.

“Apart from being dragged in here for no apparent reason, I’m fine.”

“You just seemed in a mood.” Joe zipped up his pants, looking back at Sal and washing his hands before the younger boy could remind him. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“You certainly chose the right place to talk to  _me_.” Sal said, stumbling slightly, and shivering in disgust when he almost stands in  _something_ stained to the floor. When he faces Joe he's met with a superior, all knowing look. "What?"

"You know you're easy to read, right? Anyone can tell when you're upset."

Sal scoffed. "It doesn't matter."

"You sure?"

Of course it isn't, he's still- possibly _irrationally_ \- angry over the immature joke, but he isn't about to start an argument that's probably blown up with the influence of alcohol. Joe means well, and even though he laughed, maybe even the hardest out of anyone, he'd never wish ill harm or offence on Sal in the long run. They're professionals when it comes to jokes at one of the other guys expense, but they're friends before anything; friends who built a friendship on pranks, mocking and having each others backs. 

"Yeah, it's cool, Joe." And before he can be roped back into a conversation about his feelings, he grabs the handle of the door and walks out, rejoining the other two.

 

Sal hadn't always been the member of the group with the lowest confidence and thinest skin. He use to be incredibly resilient, and now his "bouncing back" was holding a grudge to make someone feel bad- but when he was young he had the world at his feet. _Thinest_ skin doesn't equal thin skin, Sal could take some of the heat same way he could give it, but the line that was more than often trampled over was his weight. They all knew it was a sensitive subject, and tried as little as possible to bring it up on the show, as well as agreeing never to implement a punishment that would shine a light on that insecurity. That professional respect didn't mean they wouldn't still joke about it in their own time, and Sal had come to resent but tolerate it. When he was young, he was lean, thin, and tall, but soon age and stress caught up with him, and the rest in history. He's been able to shift some weight here and there, but it's not easy, especially now with tours and busy filming schedules and trying to find his feet in stand up...

He resented it, but he'd tolerate it, for the sake of his career and his friendships.

However, that's sober, more rational Sal. That's not who's sat in the booth with a morose scowl plastered to his face, having to now endure the relentless teasing with a sunny, delightful nickname lead by the one and only, Brian Quinn.

"Sugar tits, you want another drink?" Brian snickered, poking fun at Sal's obvious disapproval of the term. He put his arm around Sal's waist and pulled him close, receiving an angry grunt from the younger man as he pushed out of the possessive hold. "Woah, sugar tits, what's the matter?"

"Stop it, Q." Sal said, unable to look at him. James and Joe shared a laugh, again at Sal's expense, egging on the drunken mockery further. Brian awed obnoxiously loud, wrapping his arms around Sal, almost falling on top of him in the booth. Brian lay sloppy kisses over his cheek, over exaggerated to deliberately irritate Sal further, succeeding. They wrestled for dominance, while James and Joe just laughed at the domestic before them. It felt light and airy for them, whereas Sal was living a constricting nightmare, his blood boiling with no avail to release the tension.

"We're gonna have so much fun later at yours, Sally."

Sal finally wriggled free, staring at him wondering. "What?-- _What_ are you on about, Q?"

"I'm staying at yours, remember. Closer, quicker, lazier option. My place is miles from here, and Loraine is back from her holiday, so I don't want to run into her drunk off my ass! We talked about all this before we came out."

 _Shit_. Sal forgot about that. 

"Well, stop calling me sugar tits and I'll let you escape from the neighbour you banged." Sal drank the rest of his beer, grumbling, "You certainly love to shit where you eat."

It came out of nowhere and shocked Sal the second he said it, like it may have been someone else who uttered the sentence. Luckily Brian didn't hear, but even if he had he probably wouldn't have understood the implications, which were what shocked Sal. He hadn't thought about those memories- the ones so clear and obvious now he's given them a voice- in a long time, at least with a bitter anger like when they were fresh. Sal hadn't felt that twisting in his gut in _years_. He stares blankly at his drink, trying to comprehend where it had come from, but the alcohol was fuzzing up any clarity to be seen. 

He shook his head, brushing it off. He didn't miss Brian, not like that, not like how he so suddenly had for a mer second. He wasn't going to let a stupid, intrusive thought throw him off balance from what he knew to be true: The past is the past and passive aggressive comments aren't going to define him. 

He grunted, leaving the table to order more drinks. He needed them.

-

The taxi ride home had certainly been awkward. Brian had done most of the talking, trying to engage with Sal, but he was in no mood. Maybe he was irrationally angry- it was a dumb drunken comment not made in malice, but it stirred him up inside he couldn't seem to drop it. Maybe there was more to it than just the one comment, maybe it was the stress of getting older, and how lonely he'd found himself lately, swearing himself to secrecy. He couldn't afford to entertain the depressing thought with such a hectic life and enough worries to keep him occupied a life time, but maybe that was one of the reasons he was so sensitive to Brian's comment. The one friend that had known Sal more intimately than anyone ever had, throwing that back in his face when he was vulnerable-

 _Stop_. He wasn't going there. He didn't miss Brian, not like that.

Why was he even thinking about all that...

Brian went on chattering like he hadn't noticed Sal's absence, but he had. He thought if he kept talking then Sal would eventually smile again and they'd go back to having a good night. He hated when Sal went quiet, because it usually meant something. The other three had less baggage they carried around, if something hurt them, they would laugh it off and feel it when they were alone, but not Sal. He would analyse, muster up outrageous scenes and motives, just to wind himself up more. Brian recognised it, the somber mood, head resting against the cab and rushing out as quick as possible when they arrived.

Brian ran after Sal best he could with his wobbly legs, grabbing him before he opened the door.

“Bud, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Brian squinted his eyes, swaying ever so slightly as he examined Sal. He sandwiched his face between his sweaty palms, squeezing till Sal’s lips puckered, and hummed, scanning his possession for something he didn’t even know he was looking for. “Ya bein’ quiet with me.”

Sal batted his hands away, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He haphazardly guided his key into his lock, opening the door and stumbling through, falling against the front step leading upstairs. He stayed there for a second, palms against the carpet, breathing heavily and listening too fondly to the drumming of his erratic heartbeat. It felt soothing, like the waves of his intoxicated state were ocean ripples cleaning him off his emotions. He scrunched his eyes shut, then widened them as large as possible, to the point it felt like his eyeballs could fall out his head.

They didn’t. He was obviously very drunk to believe they might have.

Sal pushed himself up, but it seemed balance was against him as he toppled backward, falling against Brian, the other man’s arms linking under his armpits to catch him. Sal grunted, looking up to see the smug expression of his friend and greeted him coldly with a stale turned up lip, pushing out of his catch and storming into his kitchen.

 _The fuck did I do?_  Brian thought to himself as he closed the door. His vision caught up in a fuzzy fog, distorting reality and replacing it with bleak colours and waved lines. Sal’s usual pristine home is unrecognisable as Brian begins to walk through the doorway into the living room, relying more on memory than what he can actually see when it comes to not bumping into furniture. He racks his brain on his journey for whatever it might be to have put Sal in such a stale mood. Sober Brian probably would already be on his knees apologising, but _Drunk_  Brian was still figuring it out, as expected. If it has been anyone else he'd had cursed them out for killing his buzz and be off to the nearest club dancing with a girl half his age, or making friends accidentally with a dealer outside having a cigarette, but he cared for Sal. His standoffish demeanour had struck a chord with him, and the usual stubbornness of sober Brian had translated into the brasher, cruder, louder, Brian.

He crashes through the living room soon falling into the kitchen and landing against the island, grunting. He lifts his head to see Sal stood, drinking out of a water bottle and staring at him with a smug look on his face. Brian felt like growling, but rather pushed himself up and pointed his finger at the man, taking in a deep breath.

“You really can be a fucking  _asshole_ , ya know that, right?” Brian grunted through gritted teeth, coming off more threatening and angry than intended. Sal snorted, tossing his eyes up. He’d dealt with Brian drunk too many times, that despite his own self, he was more than ready to settle his friend. 

“Whatever Brian. Come on, I’ll set the sofa bed up for ya-”

“No way bucko, you aint dismissing me!” Brian rushes round the table, squaring up to Sal and glaring at him; unintentionally but persistently. He sways a little, like a light breeze could knock him off his feet, but he keeps his glare strong. He stabs his finger into Sal’s shoulder, almost toppling over himself as he pushes against him and then stumbles back falling against the island again. “Just,” he straightens up, blinking rapidly. “Just tell me what’s wrong, what did I do?”

“Nothing!” Sal lied, the frustration beginning to boil away the alcohol swimming through his system. “I’m just tired, or whatever. It’s no biggie. Seriously, I-I-I  _think_ , we should just get some sleep...pray the hangover don’t hit us too hard in the morning-”

He was about to swallow his feelings and put an arm around Brian, guide him out the kitchen and tuck him under a spare blanket, and call it a night. He didn’t really want anything more to happen to him in his drunken state, and he certainly didn’t want anything else unraveling within him so abruptly as it had done. He was  _about_  to do all that, but it seemed that Brian Quinn wasn’t going to quiet down so easily and decided to take things into his own hands: forcefully.

He grabs Sal by the shoulders and shoves him hard against the countertop, the sink just to his left, dripping. Sal winces at the blow to his lower back, glaring at Brian who’s hands are now either side of his waist, gripping the wet surface of the countertop. 

“What the  _fuck_ , Brian?!”

“I know you, Salvatore.”

The room filled with an eerie, off coloured tension neither had acknowledged in years, and to recognise it, with such heavy hearts and busy minds made it thicker; harder to breath the anguish of the other’s lungs. Sal hadn’t looked at Brian with this much intensity in years, not since their prom when they were screaming at one another in a distant hallway of their school. Sal had made out with Stacey Andrews, Brian had groped Bethany Cooper, and it had escalated into Sal against the wall, legs wrapped around Brian as they made out feverishly. The feeling of ecstasy, burning in Sal’s stomach anytime Brian’s fingers made contact with his bare skin, that the only reasonable response his brain could muster was a gasp. He hadn’t gasped like that in  _years_ , and he missed the breathlessness he was left with when they had their time together, his head light and the room spinning. 

Now, the dim glow of the moon was peaking through the blinds and stripes light up Brian’s dark features - his broody eyes, his up turned lip, all the crows feet and lines of age that he’d come to despise, Sal was momentarily obsessed with. It had been such a long time since he’d been able to admire the other man, and shamefully his heart began to hammer like a corny love struck teenagers might. The nostalgia churns his stomach (or, that may be the alcohol, as he'd love to believe), it’s all so familiar yet foreign, fighting for little reason, so close to each others faces, with a strong sense they were both pretending wasn't there,  _needing_  to be explored. Sal shouldn’t, but for the first time in 20 years, within the same confines as the culprit in question, he wants to feel Brians’s lips against his again, and know what his tongue feels like, and have his hands grab at his body desperately like the world may end if they don’t take out their frustrations-

“ _Brian_.” The name came out like a lustful whisper, mistakenly but not disappointingly. Brian’s eyes softened suddenly, like the name poured cool over his boiling skin. Sal took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second to regain conscious thought that wasn’t tangled in inebriated cravings. “We both need to sleep. Th-This isn’t a good idea, buddy.”

Brian didn’t flinch. His eyes glued to Sal’s, recognising the fluster that he use to cast on him many times, and his stomach became knotted with disorientated butterflies. The two just breathed, heavily, inches apart from one another, until eventually Brian leaned forward an extra inch and licked his lips, eyes falling to the plump pink of Sal’s own.

“Are you feeling what I’m feeling?” His voice was horse, and low, and  _sexy_. It reeked of allure and appeal, and a secret lust that was only for Sal to ever hear. The gentle hum of the evenings tranquility kept them sane, but the drumming of the other’s heart seemed to be ear shattering. 

Sal should have thrown Brian backward, run up to his bedroom and kept himself locked away until the morning when they’d both be sober. He should have trusted the smart voice within his head  _screaming_  at him to get out of this situation, to not give into the blown up pupils and blushed skin of who was once his lover in a previous life. Sal stood in complete silence, his chest inflating and holding high as he took a second to process the scene, then he exhaled. 

“I...” he squeezed his eyes shut, grunting and running a hand through his hair. “I think this is a bad-”

“Stop. Are you feeling what I’m feeling? Do you feel it, Sal?”

“ _Jesu_ \- What, Q? What on God’s earth should I feel right now?”

“Seriously? Are you playing dumb right now or are you just, as fucking usual, being an asshole?”

“Oh, fuck you, Quinn.” Finally, Sal found the will to push Brian back and stormed away, resisting the urge that was to turn back and see where they were going to go, pressed against the kitchen countertop. His feet were heavy as he rushed away, but a pounding chased after him and before he could even think, Brian had wrapped his arms around his waist and was tugging him backward. Sal furrowed his brow in confusion, eyes focused on the hands on his stomach and the force trying to pull him backward.

“Sal  _please_!” Brian begged, his voice slurring as his body went weak and he rested on Sal’s back, slowly sliding downward till his knees hit the floor and his face was against Sal’s ass. He was mumbling incoherent nonsense, and Sal was stuck centre of his living room attempting to wriggle free. 

“Q, what the fuck-”

“Don’t leave me! You can’t, you’re gonna go, and sleep, and I don’t want you to ignore this!” Brian’s words slipped in and out of sense, mixing and matching with different sentences, and all were muffled into the jeans against Sal’s ass. Eventually, Sal was able to disconnect Brian’s hands, kneeling down so they were both on the floor, and lifting his chin up so their eyes met again.

“Q, you’re not making sense-”

“I’m  _real_  fucking drunk, Sal.” He grabbed Sal’s face suddenly, panic struck as if he was in a strangers home. “So wasted. Like, in my 20′s kind of fucked! Aren’t you?”

Sal took Brian’s hands off his face. “Yeah, I’m pretty drunk too.” Which wasn’t a lie, despite how much clearer he was than his friend. He was still very much drunk, but the situation they had found themselves in had forced him to sober up. He pushed himself to stand, groaning as his bones protested, and then yanked Brian to his feet. Brian struggled to stay balanced, and found himself leaning on Sal for support; all his weight pressed against the other man, and all his heat baring down upon Sal’s energy. He slipped his arm underneath Brian’s and hobbled over to the coach, throwing him down along with himself and they both let out a huff.

Silence. Neither could speak, even if they wanted to.

There wasn’t anything to say - or, more so, there was  _too much_  to say, so much that they were both drawn a blank. Sal didn’t want to relive the glory days, before the worst heartache he ever felt, and Brian didn’t want to believe he was looking at Sal the way he use to. Was it good? Was it bad? Was it worth rekindling after 20 odd years?

They sat beside one another, thinking. Both the same thing but in such different parts of their worlds. Eventually, the quiet turned into bleak prods, provoking someone to break the air between them, and surprisingly it was Sal.

“Okay,” he took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead, "Are we really doing this after so many years?" He looked at Brian, tired. "Is this a good time to do this when we're fucked off our faces?"

"Has there ever been a good time? Will there ever be?"

Sal huffed. "True." He ran his tongue along his teeth- they felt fuzzy, he hated that feeling. "A lot happened in a very short space of time."

"Remember when we were playing fuck, marry, kill earlier? Ah the simpler times." Brian mused. Sal laughed under his breath, looking down at his hands. It was happening, and despite the desperate want to run from it, he had to face it. For closure? For satisfaction? For curiosity- whatever it was, he'd found the time to calm down and find a small space of clarity. 

"Okay," he says again, as if to restart. “I feel it...I do.”

Brian’s eyes brighten. “You do?!  _Shit_ , so I’m  _not_  crazy? I-I’m not just too drunk?”

“Well, you are too drunk, that’s still a fact, but so am I. And, as much as I want to deny it, I do feel it, a little.” Sal says, nodding as if assuring himself.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean,  _really_...shit.”

“Yes, Q. Shit.”

They stopped, regathered, and resumed. “Have you ever felt it before?”

Sal let out an exasperated breath that was burning his lungs. It was a loaded question, with unexplored answers he’d never even considered before, and memories that seemed so long ago he could say they were a past life. If the night is quiet enough, and the temperature is cool enough, and everything oh so conveniently fits into place like planned, Sal does find the nagging voice in the back of his head conjuring up what ifs. Late at night when his eyes begin to weigh down and his body starts to release from his control, he is hit like a bolt of lightening with a truth that is him and Q could have gone the whole way if they weren’t a couple of kids when their relationship fell apart. It’s a big presumption, but given their friendship went the distance, it isn’t that far off to assume they could have made it as a couple in another universe. 

That’s what he feels _very_ rarely he was ever to feel anything on the matter, the deadly depression that is a loss only summoned by nostalgia.  He feels the missing gap that was Q’s touches, and his old whispers, and the passion they use to share under the watchful eye of God. It's unlikely he'll look back however, in fear of feeling the pang that is wishing they could have been, but he’s not sure he’s ever felt he’s wanted them to restart. If they could have carried on from the end point, never having  _ended_ , then that’s fine, but to pick up where they last were...

Sal's thought about the past a handful of times. Maybe both hands.

“I’m not sure.” He answers, looking up from the floor to meet Brian’s doe eyes. “I think...there were points, in an obvious way there would be, but I don’t think I’ve felt it this intensely.”

Q nods, biting his lip as his head bobbles. He sighs. “I think I’ve felt it before.”

Sal raises a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He laughs, falling back against the sofa. “Come on, Sal, how couldn’t I?! You were the first person I actually liked.” Brian slides his tongue over his teeth, eyes drifting from Sal’s mildly shocked look. “Once in a blue moon I think about it.  _Us_. Sometimes I imagine what it be like now, that we’re older, and it’s not all about sex and drinking and bullshit.” Brian rolls his head on his shoulder to see the other man again, mouth slightly open. “Just...you know, would we be happy?”

Sal snickers, leaning back to be level with Brian and rest his hand on the man’s knee. “I think we would be. I mean, the worst thing we’d argue about is whether we’d have cats-”

“Oh we’d have cats. No one is stopping me from having them.”

“We’ll see.”

“Compromise, Sally! I’d have a kid with you.”

“What?! No you wouldn’t you liar-”

“I would.”

“You hate kids.”

“I wouldn’t hate  _our_  kid. I know how much you want to be a dad, even if you pretend you don’t. I see how much your eyes light up when you play with Joe’s troubler maker, and how happy you are looking after your nieces. You want to be a dad, and I wouldn’t want to deprive that of you.”

Sal’s heart swells. He tries not to choke on the emotions gathering in his throat. _This isn't serious_ , he thinks, _this is just a drunken, over due conversation consisting of nonsense. This_ isn't _serious_. “Wow...I...don’t know what to say. I mean, hypothetically, thank you for the sacrifice. I guess,  _hypothetically_ , you could keep the cats.”

“Thanks, bud. You’d get use to them.”

“Mmmm, I guess they’re cute.”

“The cutest.”

Sal smirks, rolling his eyes. He puts his arms behind his head. “Maybe we’d be in better shape if we stuck it out. Like, we wouldn’t eat when we’re sad cause we’d have each other, or we’d gym together, you know?”

Brian looks Sal up and down, shaking his head. “I think we’d just enable each other, buddy. I’d probably be  _heavier_  if I was happier.”

They both laughed, settling in the calm serenity of one another company, before Sal’s mind wanders again. It’s often the case, that he can’t stay focused on one idea but rather bats between the negative and positive like a tennis ball. He looks at Brian and admits, “What you said earlier pissed me off.”

“Huh?” Brian barely even recalls Sal being upset- baffling considering he'd made it his mission to solve the case and here he was with a verbal confession.

“You know,” Sal crosses his arms over his body, “the whole tits thing.  _My_  tits, more specifically.” Sal looked over, a smug smirk plastered to his face as he watched the contorting expressions of Brian going through the motions. Then it hit him, the knowledge, the answer. He shoved Sal, before falling against his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him lovingly, a little giddy with the alcohol swaying his emotions. 

“I  _knew_  you were upset, Sally! Why wouldn’t you just tell me?” Brian faced him, noses almost touching as Sal turned his head to unexpectedly be confronted with Brian’s pouting face. “I didn’t mean it any kind of way, you know that! It was just a joke, bud, to mess with Murr!”

"Sugar tits was to mess with Murr?"

Brian cringed, holding on tighter. "I was just busting your balls! Like we always do, man! You know I don't...I'd never want to really upset you, not really!"

Sal awkwardly shuffled out of Brian’s squeeze, laughing to reassure the words as true. “Yeah, course.”

Brian sat up, seeing the doubt on his friends face. “Sal, it’s true. I swear.”

“I just,” Sal ran a hand through his hair, shrugging, “I don’t like the fat jokes, you know? I know I gotta grow thick skin, and it's pretty routine in our groups dynamic by now, but it hurts. It does, and--  _ugh_ , it’s bullshit...maybe if I wasn’t drunk it wouldn’t be-”

“Sal.” Brian interrupted, resting his hand on Sal’s cheek. The tension had returned, heavy and hot between them, clouding their lungs, but this time they didn’t care. Sal tried to keep his heart steady as the contact caught a chill down his spine, and the dark lust in Brian’s eyes became more and more overbearing. “I may fuck with you, but I’d never want to hurt you. That breaks my heart, the idea of upsetting you. You mean the freaking world to me.”

“C’mon, let’s not exaggerate.”

“You do. I don’t think...” Brian stopped, holding his tongue back for a second as he looked deep into the others eyes, seeing his vulnerability in the silvery gloss of Sal’s pupils. “I don’t think I’d still be here if it weren’t for you. You’ve saved my life a million times over.” He smiled, placing a hand on Sal’s shoulder for support, because the truth was harsh and heavy. “Sorry, that was a lot. But, you’re so important to me, Sal.”

It was finally _way_ too much. He’s been holding himself up all night, the fine line of friendship and their past beginning to wither with their weight, and Sal had fallen. Without another thought, he gave into the animalistic urges trying to break free and grabbed Brian by the scruff of his shirt, crashing their lips together, kissing him as passionately as he possibly could.

But, Brian didn’t even have to think to comprehend the situation, or his feelings. As soon Sal’s lips were on his, he was bursting with lustful desires that reciprocated through his hands grabbing Sal’s hips, digging his nails into his soft flesh. Their lips caught in the familiar embrace that use to send them through a starry oblivion, now soaring past the hallucination of a burning galaxy. Sal didn’t want to let go, he wanted Brian’s hands imprinted on his body till he withered and all he could feel were those nails. He sighed into the others mouth and buried his hand in Brian’s long hair, inciting a grunt from his friend.

When they were kids, they spent what felt like hours wrapped up the same way they are now. Brian went by “Bri” back then and Sal couldn’t resist moaning the name every chance he got a chance. Sal had shaggier hair too, and a skinny frame, and he use to thrive in these situations. If he were still that cocky teenager, he’d have his shirt already on the floor and Brian would be pinned between the couch pillows and his chest. They’d be unapologetically tearing off each others clothes and touching every bare piece of skin available at will, but things have changed. Sal isn’t that same confident kid who may have had too big of a head looking at his reflection, and Brian isn’t the same soul that tried to be too cool for love. They had grown up into new people, and watched the other do so in the process. 

Brian was far too drunk however to be thinking rationally, he was too busy relishing in the memories of Sal’s thick lips, hands slipping down to grab his ass as he tried to pull Sal onto his lap. It didn’t work, but he kept trying, determined to get what he wanted. Eventually Sal squirmed uncomfortably, pulling out of the kiss and breathing heavily, staring fearfully into Brian’s eyes. 

“I need you, Sal.”

“Wha-what?!”

“Come on, I’m chaffing over here.” Brian let’s go of his waist and begins fumbling with his belt, about to undo his trousers and release his erection, until Sal’s hands hold his and stops him mid action. Brian’s eyes shot up to stare questioningly at the other boy, both concern and frustration as he breathed heavily with his chest rising and falling as the tightness electrocuted his veins. “Sal?”

“This aint a good idea, bud.” 

Brian’s pulse deteriorated, his shoulders dropping. “Why do you...what?”

Sal pulled his hands back, twiddling with them nervously and looking anywhere by Brian’s overbearing eyes- they felt so honest, and he can’t help but see the youthful innocence that bore holes in his chest from when they were dumb 18 year olds. Brian’s brown eyes are softer now, broken and disheveled like his hair, but he saw them rebuild, the same glimmering light that use to be there before the world got to him. They broke up for a reason, they stayed  _friends_  for a reason, he couldn’t fuse two worlds together now after so much time apart.

Or, could he?

“Why did we break up?” Sal asks, timidly. He doesn’t look at Brian, he keeps his eyes glued to his feet and bites his lip as he feels his friends intense gaze begging for his eyes. “Why are we here now, after so long? Why did we break up to begin with, and never, you know, try this shit before now?”

Brian blinks rapidly, scratching his neck. Whole heartedly, he doesn’t know why it was happening now and not before, but he tried his best to fill the air with an answer. 

“Well...we were going to different universities and, we agreed it was best we split, be _cause_...we assumed we wouldn’t see each other again. Right?”

Sal believed that’s how Brian remembered it, he didn’t think there was a disingenuous bone in his body, and he was probably too drunk to fact check himself, but Sal’s heart tightened at the thought he couldn’t remember.

He lifted his head to meet Brian’s eyes and sighed. “No. That...that's not what happened, it wasn't that simple. It wasn't that _easy_ at all! Don’t you remember?”

He didn’t. He couldn’t remember no matter how much he tried.

“I...are you sure?”

“I'm positive. Not to dampen the mood, but you broke my heart, Q. I wouldn't forget what happened.”

“Shit...” Brian sat forward, holding his hands against his face, feeling the tiredness waver over his eyes. “I don’t remember. I’m so sorry, Sal.” He turned to face Sal, scratching his beard. “I don’t know...I can’t believe I don’t remember.  _Fuck_!”

Sal pursed his lips, shrugging. “It’s not that big an issue, not anymore. We were a couple of kids, it's not easy being that young and as serious as we were.”

Brian sprang back, sitting on his legs and grabbing Sal aggressively by the shoulders, shaking him, eyes wide as if he had come up with a life changing idea. “It is an issue, Sally, a huge one! A stupendously  _massive_  issue! I fucked up what might have been the best relationship I had, and could have had! I fucked it all up for what? To get laid by some girls that didn’t give two shits about me!”

Sal’s head rattled before he unhooked himself from Brian’s grip, chuckling. “Really man, we followed our dicks back then. Apart from Joey, we were all gagging for sex.”

“But, it was so much  _more_  than sex with you.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“No, it was.” Brian took Sal’s hands into his, and squeezed them tight, biting his lip. “I fucked up the best thing in my life. I was a stupid, scared kid who didn’t realise a good thing when I saw it. But now...” Brian lifted one of his hands to Sal’s cheek, slowly pulling him forward, smiling as the other man moved with his palm needing to resume their earlier position. “I’m not going to mess this up.”

Then they were kissing again, more tenderly. Sal’s hands wrapped around Brian’s neck, feeling like his stomach was about to burst with the fiery butterflies trapped inside him. Brian grabbed Sal and shifted their bodies so the younger boy was straddling his thighs, _finally_ , and Brian moaned fiendishly as his thick legs crushed his own, his hands running down to feel him. 

Too much fabric. 

“Nope, hold up-  _Jeans_ , they gotta go!” Brian pointed out, peppering his neck with kisses as his fingers began fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. Sal stood up, quickly pulling his trousers off and throwing them somewhere, then resumed his position. Brian hummed pleasingly, skin on skin as his hands caressed the bare thighs. “God, you’re fucking sexy.”

“Not as good as before though.” Sal joked, hoping the honesty wasn’t too strong on the end of his words. Brian gripped the bare skin tight in his hands, in love so suddenly with the view. Sal was bigger, there was no denying the facts that with age, he’d packed on the weight, but Brian didn't care at all. He absolutely adored the fuller, rounder shape of Sal, and as fast as the situation had appeared, he was obsessed with touching him, feeling every imperfection Sal worried about. He loved how soft he was, and how much of him there was to love and cherish, and with his hands caressing the chubby flesh of his thighs, Brian’s head was filled with dirty thoughts of what he desired to do more than anything.

He hadn’t felt like this in a long time...had he?

“A thousand times better.” Brian replied through a growl, meeting Sal’s self-conscious smile, watching his cheeks blush fuller every time his nails dug deeper in his flesh. Sal clawed the back of the couch cushion, trying to hide the embarrassment on his face as a thousand tangled, battered feelings emerged after years of suppressing them. Brian grits his teeth, kissing Sal’s neck as he runs his hands up and down his legs, lovingly, obsessively, and a little sloppy as the drink still stirs in his system. He bites playful on his pulse point, squeezing Sal’s ass as he groans in pleasure. 

“ _Fuck_ -" Sal moans, throwing his eyes back momentarily as the stars burst above him, covering him with the ancient star dust he missed. "You should- take off your-  _mmm_ \- your pants.” The words leave his mouth before his thoughts even untangle, and his face dyes a darker shade of red, burying his face into his chest. Brian chuckles, lifting Sal’s chin so their eyes meet and places a soft kiss against his swollen lips.

“Is that what you want?”

Sal breaths out, nodding shyly. Brian lifts Sal to sit up on his knees, and he wriggles awkwardly out of his jeans, hearing the clink of the belt as they fall and pool around his feet. Sal sits back down straddling the shaggier man, smiling when he feels skin on skin and Brian’s fingers tickle the sides of his legs teasingly. Somehow, unbeknownst to either of them, Sal begins grinding down against Q, hands tugging his greying hair, while Q leaves vicious purple bruises along the collar bone he’s forced to reveal itself. 

The fever between them boils till it’s tingling their skin, and both their best intentions are but a distant ideal. Sal soon lets go off any insecurities and dry humps Brian like a champ, and Brian growls ferociously as he holds onto the soft flesh of Sal’s hips, grinding further into the clothed ass of his past lover. They haven’t done anything like this since they were kids, but it feels as fresh as it did back in the days when Brian would sneak into Sal’s window, hair slicked back with rain and his leather jacket shimmering with water. Now, they’re greying, and they’re hairier, and their bones ache more, but the passion seems as intense and as colourful as it once did before. 

Every so often their lips connect. Brian bites Sal’s bottom lip and holds it as he drinks up the moans from his partner, nails sunken into his skin so hard they’ll definitely leave bruised scars in the morning, but Sal  _wants_  that. He tugs at Brian’s shirt impatiently and pulls it off fluidly, sitting back to admire his friends ageing body. In the dim light of the night, Sal’s eyes are enchanted by the pale skin, and he feels the pit of his belly ignite with a holy fire that feels  _calming_.

“You want to take a picture, Salvatore? It’ll last longer.” Brian whispers, gravelly and hot.

Sal furrows his brow, resting his hands on Brian’s shoulders as he grinds against him, leaning in against his ear. “I hate when you call me that.”

Brian snakes a hand under Sal’s shirt and strokes his back, shifting his hips to resume the rhythm they’d created. He looks between their bodies as Sal breaths heavily against his ear, nipping at his lobe every few seconds desperately, and he sees the heavy print of his cock thick in his boxers. Brian feels his own erection twitch at the sight, and his movements speed up as his head clouds with inappropriate thoughts. 

If someone had told him that morning Sal would be kissing him, and he's be thinking dirty, sexy thoughts about Sal in return, Brian would have laughed and told them to get their head examined. Yet here he was, completely lost in the moment, enthralled in every motion and whisper that leaves the younger man.

“Bri...” Sal whispers breathlessly, his hands tugging at the long locks of his friend. “ _Shit_ , Bri, this is- we need to stop.”

“But-”

“No not cause it’s bad,  _fuck_  it’s so good, but I’m gonna cum. I don’t want to cum- you have whisky dick, I can’t cum if you won’t cum.”

“Okay okay, stop saying cum.” Brian chuckles, bringing his hips to a halt. He cups Sal’s face as he pants, desperate for air in his lungs. Brian thinks Sal looks adorable, lost of coherent thought and breath, bright eyed and pink in the cheeks. Sal won’t meet Brian’s eyes, but the green is blazing with the shameful knowledge of what just happened between them. Brian rubs his thumb over Sal’s facial hair, leaning in to kiss his forehead and eventually being met with his gaze.

Sal doesn’t speak. All he can manage is a weak smile that reveals one of his dimples, and his hands fall limp agains Brian’s shoulders. The air around them is heavy with heat, like a thousand hands pushing down upon their sweaty bodies. Brian sees less of the shameless teen he use to love and is reminded this is the nervous, anxious 40 year old he would put his life on the line for. His hands lower to hold Sal by the swell of his back, and he chuckles lightly.

“I meant what I said. I’m not going to mess this up.”

Sal rolls his eyes. He's already gathering the fragile memories to store away forever, adding a fresh one to the mix. “Q, I think we should call this a drunken mistake and pretend it never happened.”

Brian frowns, shaking his head. “But I don’t want to. Is that what you really want?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think this is what I wanted at all until tonight, until I was here...sat on you...” Sal is suddenly all too aware of where he is, and starts to shift uncomfortably. “Which, I should move, I’m probably crushing you.”

“No, you’re not.” Brian trails his hands back down to Sal’s thighs, scratching his nails lightly along the taunt skin, watching as the other man bites his lip involuntarily. Brian leans in to rest against Sal’s chest. His heart is thumping like rabbits legs. “ _Fuck_ , this feels so good.”

Sal can feel his eyes about to roll to the back of his head again. He pushes himself off Brian forcefully, stumbling backward. He stands in front of him wearily, tugging the bottom of his shirt, eyes adjusting as he’s brought back to the dark reality of his living room and the hum of moving life muffled outside. Brian’s chest is beating heavier than normal, his bare chest flushed with heat, and Sal is suddenly wracked with so many thoughts he had convinced himself didn’t exist anymore. They stare at one another for a few seconds, before finally Sal speaks.

“Tomorrow. We’ll talk about all of this tomorrow when we’re not drunk, and we’ve eaten. I promise, but I just can’t do it right now.”

Brian wants to fight against it, but his body is starting to laze with the extinguished fires lulling him tired. He sighs, shrugs, and stands to agree with the nervous man in front of him.

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“We’ll know what we want better then.” Sal purses his lips, scratching the back of his head. “I’ll take the couch, you can sleep in my bed.”

“Nah, you take your bed. I know how your back plays up. I’ll be fine here.” Brian smiles, not sure if he’s trying to reassure Sal or himself. 

“You sure?”

“Of course.” They stood in silence for a minute, then Sal nodded and waved goodnight. “Wait, Sal?”

He turns around. “Yeah?”

Brian walked up to him, tripping over his feet slightly, and then gently, as if not to startle him, took Sal’s face in his hands and kisses him tenderly. One last time with all the passion he had in his body passing through his lips. He wanted to remember it, the way Sal’s cushiony lips felt, or how he could taste the hammering of his heart like sweet liquorish. He feels Sal melt into the kiss, and his hands lightly graze Brian’s hips, wanting to touch him, to feel that intense crazed love he knew was festering, begging to release, but he restrains himself until Brian pulls away. They stare at one another, barely inches from the others face, and simultaneously they crack an awkward smile. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s cool, man. I’ll see you in the morning.” Sal clears his throat, backing out of Brian’s hold and then jogs out the room and up the stairs, away from the scene he’d wanted to escape from the very beginning. Brian stands in the same spot for far too long, until his leg buckles under the weight of his sleep deprived self and he falls helplessly on the couch, arm hung over the edge, face first in the pillow. 

It doesn’t take long to drift off in a deep sleep. If he hadn’t downed so many shots, it be a different story, but the swaying makes it easy to fall asleep and not ponder too long on the anxiety.

Sal however...Sal doesn’t fall asleep for hours, until he’s  _so_  exhausted keeping his eyes open hurts too much. Sal thinks about everything, in grim, grave detail. 

 

 


	3. The morning after.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal and Brian have a talk. It's weird, but it's about time.

**_ *1993* _ **

 

Sal wraps his bare leg around Brian’s waist, hands combing down his chest, sweeping up the sticky sweat that tangles in the faint hairs. He loves the smell of their sex, like summer cider and the smoke of cigarettes, mixed with the evening air under rain. He presses a kiss to Brian’s shoulder blade and sighs, completely content and in love. 

Brian rakes his fingers through Sal’s hair, holding the long strands up to the light and admiring the specks of dirty blonde that the sun has cast. Loving Sal was easy, like breathing, and felt as full as the deepest inhale did. He could swim through the obsessive passion he felt, make a life out of drowning, and never miss the fresh air as long as he always had Sal in his arms. Eyes wide, smile crooked, heart beating like a skittish deer. 

They laugh. Brian wraps his arms around Sal and pulls his naked body to sit on top of him, reaching round the back of his neck and pulling him down till their lips connect.

“You’re too much for me.” Brian whispers against Sal’s plump lips, unable to stop adoring him between kisses. Sal holds Brian’s face, stroking the shabby short side burns. 

“I love you.” Sal admits, his heart on the verge of exploding, but his lips unable to stop loving. 

Brian snickers, holding Sal’s face back so he can take in the doe-like expression on his pink face, and his eyes fall soft. “I love you too, you dope. More than I thought would ever be possible." 

**_ *2017* _ **

 

Sal wakes up at the crack of dawn, eyes stinging as the bare brush strokes of sun rays paint him awake. There’s just the feeling of heat before his body clicks and he realises he’s drained the dreams of his sleep and his eyes are open-- or, they’re _opening_. He pulls the covers tight over his body, exhaling the tense knots cracking in his back. Everything feels lucid, like he’s lost all his bones, and his blood is cotton, and then it collapses and his limbs are hard like broken mountains. He stays comfy before reaching out to take his phone and glasses from the night stand to check his messages. He squints, adjusting to the sudden light from the screen, and then goes through his texts.

_**(11:58pm)**  Mom: Your sister needs a baby sitter. I'm busy. Please respond A.S.A.P.  _

_**(12:04am)**  Mom: Sorry if you're asleep, it's late. Love you. _

_**(12:30am)**  Mom: A baby sitter for tomorrow. Friday. I forgot to mention. You might be filming, I'll ask one of your other sisters. _

Sal snickers, typing out a reply. She's right, he is filming, but he's curious why she was up so late? She’s usually in bed by ten- but he doesn't ponder on it for too long. He looks at his next message.

_**(1:32am)**  Ferret: MUCH LOVE SUGAR TITS _

 Sal cringes, typing out a drawn out, irritated message before deleting it and ignoring Murr completely. Next message.

_**(12:10am)**  Joe: Don't be a miserable bastard forever! It was a good night, we'll do it again soon. Make sure Q doesn't choke on his own vomit_.

Sal shot up and froze, face struck like he’d seen a ghost as all that had happened the night before hit him like bullets. The gentle waves of waking up turned violent, spiking his senses and causing him to curl in on himself. The drumming in his head hollows, echoing in the spaces of his skull. Hangovers, even in his 40s he'll never get use to them. Sal grunts, shaking through the shock and holds his head in his hands as he recalls the jumbled mess that was last night- like a phantom reenacts the scenes against him he can feel Brian's friction, and the inviting shower of heat pouring over him. He mumbles incoherently, taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. There were so many emotions, he couldn't seem to find one that spoke out over the others...

Fingers peeling off clothes, sweaty palms lacing through tangled fevers, tongues wishing they could speak a million words to say one thing-

Then he finds it: panic. Sal threw himself out of bed and hurtled down the stairs in a blind sweat, grabbing the doorframe to the living room to stop his feet, hoping he wouldn't find Brian, as Joe had warned, dead from choking on vomit. Relief washes over him when he hears a loud snore come from the dishevelled man. Sal exhales relief, falling against the door frame as he stands there, watching Brian in the peace of his sleep. He seems so calm, his arm draped over the couch pillow and his face squashed against the cushion, his legs awkwardly splayed where he was too tall for the furniture. He's seen Brian like this many times, in the worst and best of times; When Sal first bought his own place, and Brian drank himself into oblivion he passed out before midnight; When Brian's engagement fell to pieces and he pretended he was just fine with the help of tequila and vodka; When they were told their silly little pilot was getting picked up by a TV station, and Sal actually ended up hosting both Brian and James before he could even agree to it. He was use to seeing Brian like this, passed out and inebriated, but it's different now. The heat of their tension is constricting, oppressive and it's familiarity is scarily foreign it sticks to Sal's skin, pulling him under the suppression of his longings. He stands against the door frame, watching his friend fidget and mumble sleepy nonsense, and he finds himself really watching him, seeing the sweet parts that only someone like Sal could know about; someone with access for the deepest most intimate parts. 

Where the hell was this all coming from? Sal had no conscious desires before last night to rekindle the long dead romance they had shared. It didn't add up- feelings don't just emerge out of no where with no warnings, do they? He'd never lusted after Brian when he'd dated other women, and he'd never fought against other relationships where he’d fallen in love just because he'd felt it before, but then again those women were about as oblivious to Sal's past as Sal wished he could pretend to be. If Sal was brutally honest, he'd realise it was a long time coming- maybe not the kissing and the red hot hands, but the talking, and the admitting: " _But you broke my heart, Q_." He'd never told Brian how much pain he went through after the break up, the sleepless night filled with deluded cravings they'd mend the broken relationship, or the loss of appetite and Joe trying to put him back together best he could with the stress in his own life, sometimes literally feeding him and showering him.

They don't talk about that time. Never. The most they might do is share a look, but that's it. Sal never wants to be reminded how dark he felt, and he never wants to be pitied by his friend again. No matter how much Joe tries to help, Sal refuses to be that version of himself again.

Sal watches Brian for as long as he can stomach, then he slinks off to the kitchen to see what he's got for breakfast. Not a lot it seems. Some cereal boxes, a few pieces of mismatching fruit in a bowl, and a few eggs. He grunts, frustrated, and looks back at Brian. It's a certainty he's going to be in a worse state than Sal is, and that's not going to make talking about everything any easier. 

_Oh fuck I forgot we have to talk about everything_ , Sal thinks, face palming turning into rubbing his sore head. He stands in his kitchen for a second, pondering what options he has. He drums his fingers on the island, humming...

Then it hits him, the light bulb above his head almost shinning so bright it could wake Brian up. He smiles, remembering after their visit to England Brian had said the best hangover cure was a full English breakfast. Sal hadn't been quite as keen as him for the greasy food, but if it was good for what ailed him then Sal wasn't one to deny it. He runs back up the stairs to get changed, haphazardly throwing together an outfit, zipping up his black hoodie and leaving as quietly as possible to not wake Brian up. 8:42am, if Sal really did know Brian like he thought he did, he wouldn't be awake for at least another hour earliest, and the closest shop was on the corner of Sal's street. He had plenty of time. 

The fresh air felt exceptional, cooling the raging waters of confused, heavy feelings, and settling the last of any nausea Sal was experiencing. Walking along, he found himself utterly obsessing over the night before, sifting through every detail to the point it had become child's play to remember. He recalls how intense it was inside his stomach when they came skin to skin, the desperation to throw caution to the wind and let the man have his way. The feeling of his lips, ravenous, swelling from too many bites, and his face bare of intelligent thought as he was over come with natural, cave-men instincts, that Sal was almost working himself up all over again just remembering. He pushed his glasses back up on his nose, fluffing his hair as he walked into the shop to collect what he needed. He picked up a pack of sausages and stared at them, sighing.

He was truly pathetic, staring at a pack of damn meat and thinking about last night. Someone needed to slap him into sanity.

Instead of wasting his time, he rushed around the convenience store and gathered up the last of the supplies needed plus more, paid, and rushed back to his house, careful not to disturb sleeping beauty who had turned onto his back, mouth wide open. Sal snickered, tip toeing past him and readying the tools of his destruction to make breakfast. 

The whole time he thought about what he was going to say when the time came. Every word, every feeling, every line that needed to be crossed he was analysing to great depths. Whatever him and Brian had resurfaced, he wasn't going to spend another 20 years pretending it didn't happen.

- 

The smell of grease stirs Brian from his sleep. He flutters his eyes open and feels the sudden pang of pain echo throughout his body, causing him to flinch. He slowly lifts himself from the awkward position he was laying, and when the fog of sleep starts to clear up he notes he’s not in his own home.  _Shit, Brooklyn won’t be happy,_  he thinks, knowing his youngest cat isn’t as independent as the other two and she’ll be sitting by the window waiting his return, desperate for affection and food.

He runs a hand through his hair and tugs slightly, pushing the heel of his palm into his eye, and groans. The headache spreads, thumping harder. Brian sits like that for a few seconds, gathering the blurred memories of the night before to fit together a puzzle that’s battered. He focuses on the dimly lit scenes from the night before, trying to figure out what everything was and who everyone was, and eventually he sees the familiar, sensual sight of his friend on top of him, panting, desperate-

“Morning, bud.” Brian jumps, eyes wide as he stares up at Sal, who’s holding a plate of greasy, fried food to cure the hungover Brian Quinn. Sal raises a brow, putting the plate on the coffee table in front of him and sitting beside Brian, on the edge of the sofa cushion. Brian stares at the food - eggs, bacon, sausages, the whole shebang he remembers having had on their first tour of Europe and feeling the stale tangles of alcohol wash out of his systm, and a rush of electricity radiates his bones the same way it had last night. Old feelings resurface and bubble, and he knows if he looks up at Sal and sees the bright green of his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead, he’ll crack. The shadows of what once was now reconnect, embracing, as if time hasn't moved at all. 

Brian keeps his eyes glued to the food, for now.

“I uh...I think we should skip the pleasantries and talk about the elephant in the room.” Sal says, leaning forward, holding his arms close to his chest as he looks over at Brian. He frowns, seeing the other man just staring at his food. “You all good?”

Brian nods, still unable to come face to face with the past blending into the present.

Sal squints his eyes at him suspiciously, but continues talking despite the obvious uncomfortableness of Brian. “Look, last night was...interesting, and I understand if you’d rather we just leave it to a drunken mistake and pretend it never happened! I mean, 20 plus years of friendship is a lot of time to throw away over something so stupid.”

Brian tries not to react, he just wants to listen: process everything. 

“It all happened so fast, I...I guess we were both just vulnerable or whatever. It’s been a while since I’d been with anyone, you know. And, I guess emotions were high and with alcohol involved- the two never mix well!” He laughs, stretching his back out. “It’s a weird situation. I don’t know where we go from here, but we can get past this, right? It’s not that big a deal, what’s a casual humping session between two friends anyway?” Sal joked, still getting no response from Brian, it starts to make him worry. “I guess it was a long time coming. We never spoke about what happened between us before so…” He scratches his cheek, looking at Brian and huffing when the other man is still frozen in his spot. He pushes Brian hard, glaring when he _finally_ looks back at Sal, clueless as if he’d heard nothing, staring down the barrel of a gun. “You know, the least you could do is eat the food I make you! Even if you want to ignore the shit from last night, appreciate what I do for you.” Sal sat back, crossing his arms. “I don’t even like English breakfasts, I only got that stuff for you.” He snickers under his breath. “I don’t even cook.”

Brian is swimming with the waves of an early hangover, yet he sees the light in the distance as clear as day, and everything that seemed so foggy and distant suddenly clicks the same way it did in the boozy fog of the night before. They’d spent all these years adjusting to a friendship that blossomed to be loved, and cherished, and the smokey vision had suddenly cleared up. Sal cared about him so deeply, and he couldn’t deny how he felt in return.

He took a deep breath, before resting his hand on Sal’s leg, smiling awkwardly, catching a dubious stare back. He holds the lump in his throat long enough to give him the courage, before swallowing it down, letting it fall into his stomach, nauseously rippling the crashing waves within him. Sal’s face, a shamble of the years that had broken him, wrinkles and creases moulding the man before him today.

“I’m sorry.” Brian says, choking down the sickly feeling rising. “Last night was my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you into that situation.”

Sal’s lips tugged upward, as he rested his hand against Brian’s and squeezed reassuringly. “It’s cool, man. I let it happen. I just want to know what happens now…water under the bridge, forget it ever happened?"

Brian stays quiet, his heart tightening like stretched cloth. He clicks his tongue, sighing. "I don't want to forget it though, bud. I don't want to pretend it was all a drunken mistake.” Brian shrugs. “Shit happens, and that’s fine.” 

"It's not that simple though, Q. How are we supposed to go back to normal now? Why did it even happen- I just don't get it."

"Who fucking knows- but it happened! Were you serious last night, you've never thought about us, not since we were kids?"

Sal rolls his eyes. "No, I haven't. Not voluntarily anyway, and not in years, that's for sure." 

Brian squeezes Sal's leg, eyes doughy and gentle - he isn't used to serious conversations with honest, hard feelings cutting him up, and he’s not sure where the conversation may go but his tongue runs ahead of his brain in the race. "What do you want, Sal?" 

"No- you tell me, what do _you_ want?" Sal asks, stern. He's not sure what he expects, especially since he's not sure what he wants. What he does know, is that he's not going to say the nonsense junking up his head just for Brian to turn him down or make fun of him; his anxiety is at an all time high, and he's not going to let this bastard push him over the edge.

Brian's quiet for a minute, what feels like a whole hour when you're Sal. “I think...I mean, I _know_ \-- I  _think_  I know...” Brian sighs, gathering his shambled feelings. The distorted version of last nights events still unclear, but he does his best to understand the hidden feelings. “I still mean everything I said yesterday. I don't want to forget it, because I liked it.” His face beams like he could guide sailors home, full fledged happiness even with his heart is in his throat.

Sal tries to remain deadpan, but his eyes widen at the statement. “You- _what_? Are you serious?”

“Yes. I mean, I’m looking at you right now, and I feel the same way.” He smirks. “But less nauseous, and less horny. Look,” Brian rubs at his neck, eyes flicker between Sal’s and anywhere else. “Something really sparked last night. Stupid, hot, undeniable sparks that I hadn’t felt since we were teens! And fuck, it freaked me out, bud. It really did. But we aint kids no more, and we also aint getting any younger, so...” He straightens up. His lips are suddenly very dry and he regains nausea when he sees the confusion on Sal’s face. “Let’s not pretend yesterday meant nothing. It did to me, and I think it did to you too. Am I right?”

Sal’s heart clenches. His throat feels dry but he manages to croak out a “yes” before chuckling, watching Brian grin, shocked. “Yeah, okay it meant something, I’ll give you that. I couldn’t sleep afterwards, I just kept thinking...I’ve never really wanted it before but suddenly I wanted you beside me. Not necessarily romantically- hugging or whatever- just wanted you there. Talking to me, convincing me the worst wasn’t the worst.”

“I do that already, Sal.” Brian snickered. 

“Yeah I know, but this was stronger, like it was all about it being you I wanted.” Sal looked out the window, seeing the sun fully risen and shine over everyone as the began their day. “It was weird, and it still kind of is, but I guess it aint ever gonna be easy! We’re a couple of over weight, middle aged idiots who’ve probably waited way to long for this shit to come out.” He laughs, turning back to Brian, shrugging. “How would this work though, Bri? Would we pick up where we left off, would we start afresh, or are we too old and know each other too well to pretend we’re not already a married couple?”

Brian hadn’t any answers, he’d only just found an answer to the question he didn’t know was being asked for 20 plus years: are you still infatuated with your best friend? “What would you want?” He asked, calmly.

Sal thinks, although he knows exactly what he’d prefer. “To go slow? I’m not sure I’m ready to dive straight into the deep end.”

“That’s fine by me. Better, actually. We can settle into it.”

“If you want that. This is all hypothetical at this point.”

“Sure.” Brian laughs, eyes fallen with amusement. “It’s _all_ hypothetical, like it’s always been, right?” He teases, delighting in Sal’s sheepish smirk that brings up the blush on his face. There’s a settled dusk smoothing over the ridges of their unsettled selves, as the years have battered them with the trials and tribulations one could only enquire through natural hardships. They sit, in the new tension that somehow feels familiar, and they breath.

“Yepp, this is weird.” Sal says after too long in silence. 

“Yeah. But, I’m fine with weird.”

“Mm. Me too. It’s a good kind of weird”

Brian smiles, satisfied, and then boldly leans in to lay a peck on Sal’s lips. It feels better than anything they shared the night before. The gates are open, and the floods are rushing forward, triumphant and vengeful to make up for lost time.

Separate, Sal holds up a finger. “We are not telling the other two. Do ya hear? Not a word until we know this is real.”

“Feels real to me.”

“ _Brian_.”

“Okay, I hear ya! Not a word, my lips are sealed.” He drags his teeth along his bottom lip, chuckling low. “Kind of sexy, keeping a secret.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself there, Q.” 

Brian laughs, taking Sal's face into his hands and pulling him back for a kiss. They spend most of the day like that, repairing the old bridge that had been discarded for so long, reacquainting with each other in a way they thought they'd forgotten forever. It feels natural, and fluid, and when Brian eventually leaves to tend to his cats and get some rest, they both find themselves lost in obsessive thoughts for the other.

Maybe they were in over their heads...but maybe they weren't; maybe the unexpected was their destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I've been away without internet so it took me a while to finally update- so sorry!)


End file.
